


What Should've Been

by AKnightOfAGoodKing



Category: Aquaman (2018)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crying, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 18:33:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17472782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKnightOfAGoodKing/pseuds/AKnightOfAGoodKing
Summary: Excerpt:[Tom softened his tone. “Orm, how old were you when your father sent Atlanna to the Trenches?” His wife told him everything when she returned, and he hated everything that happened to her.Orm's face fell, his anger breaking off to reveal an expression that was heartbreaking. His eyes in the moonlight glowed like tired fireflies, casting down to find somewhere to rest in the last moments of their lives, and he was shaking, remembering that he still had tears to cry.]An in-verse side story ofHeirs & the Breath of Life[DO NOT REPOST/REUSE  MY WORK(S) WITHOUT MY ACKNOWLEDGEMENT AND PERMISSION]





	What Should've Been

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing family fics that I've always wanted to with the Batfamily that I never did because it wouldn't seem so in character!

When Tom came downstairs in the middle of the night for a glass of water, he heard someone crying though an opened window. He loved living in the lighthouse, but when both Atlanna and Arthur were gone for whatever reason, it felt empty, the ghost of the past sometimes showing up. But when he looked out, he discovered it wasn't a ghost, metaphorical or not.

Right where he first found Atlanna, by the water where the rocks spread openly, there was a young child sitting there, back facing the lighthouse and quietly weeping. His hair was yellow, oddly familiar, and he cried a bit too restraint for his age. Tom immediately went outside, grabbing a coat because it was too cold outside for a child.

The man carefully climbed down the rocky wall, trying not to be startle, but the boy quickly turned his head around, distinct blue eyes soaked with tears. There was vomit close by, and the boy was wearing tattered clothing that was too big for him. _Atlantean_ clothing, something like Atlanna's silver one.

“Go away!” the boy shouted, forcing himself to stand up, and he almost fell backwards into the water. “Don’t think you can harm me, human!”

Tom took a step back so he wasn't scaring the kid any more than he was already, but he knew the boy wasn't saying what he was thinking. The blond was shaking, but not from the cold, and Tom knew he could breathe underwater but was not letting himself go back. It took only another second for the man to figure out who this child was, the boy's hair as yellow as sunlight streaming through the water and eyes that glowed the same way Arthur's golden blues did.

“Orm?” the lighthouse keeper tried.

The prince glared, baring his teeth. “How do you know my name? Who are you?” he demanded, sounding like a cornered animal.

“I'm Tom, Atlanna's husband.”

That only seemed to make Orm angrier than he already was. “You're not Mother's husband! She was Father's intended!” he screamed. Then he froze, realization striking him with a chill that had nothing to do with the weather. “You're that human she fell in love with,” he said, blinking once. “She had a son with you, a half-breed human.”

Tom wanted to tell Orm off for calling Arthur that, but he reminded himself that he was talking to a child. A child who just used the past tense when speaking about his mother.

“Yes. Orm, how old are you?” Tom had to ask.

“That's none of your business, go away,” Orm replied, jaw clenched too tightly for someone so young.

Tom softened his tone. “Orm, how old were you when your father sent Atlanna to the Trenches?” His wife told him everything when she returned, and he hated everything that happened to her.

Orm's face fell, his anger breaking off to reveal an expression that was heartbreaking. His eyes in the moonlight glowed like tired fireflies, casting down to find somewhere to rest in the last moments of their lives, and he was shaking, remembering that he still had tears to cry.

“Father sent her away last week,” the boy replied, voice threatening to break. He was fragile glass, standing between a rock wall and the crashing sea.

Arthur was fourteen when Vulko told him that his mom was executed, eleven when Tom found out first, the other man bearing the news months after it had already happened. Atlanna had Orm a year after returning to Atlantis. That made this young boy, lost and far away from home, only about _seven_ when his mother was sent to die. Tom's heart ached, not having thought about his wife's other child in all of this.

“Everything is going to be alright, son,” Tom said, coming closer. “Your mom’s alive, Orm. She's away at Atlantis right now, but she'll be back, I swear.”

“Liar,” Orm replied, eyes shooting up in anger once again, but he didn't step back. “No one comes back from the Trenches. The creatures there are primitive, they eat their dead. How could Mother ever survive? Father said it was for the best, she brought shame to Atlantis, having a child with a human. I'm the only hope Atlantis has left, I'm enough. She did her duty, she doesn't have to come back!”

That was when the boy dissolved into sobs, his small body racking with tremors, and that was Tom took his chances, rushing over to Orm and picking him up in his arms. The man wrapped the boy in the coat as Orm tried to fight him off. Even Atlantean children could bruise, Tom learned, feeling every hit, but he held on, an arm holding the boy up and another on top of his yellow hair.

“It's okay, Orm,” Tom said, wanting to cry too, but he continued to soothe the boy in his arms. “Everything is going to be alright, son.”

Hearing that again, Orm stopped struggling so that he could expend the rest of his energy letting out wails, unleashing a grief that was both mourning and pleading.

The boy was asleep once his tremors and shaking stopped, exhaustion and stress beating him down that last moment, and Tom carefully walked back to the house with Orm in his arms. The man brought the boy upstairs into Arthur's childhood bedroom, removing the coat and getting a towel to dry Orm off. Even though Atlanteans were resistant to the cold, it didn't mean they didn't get uncomfortable, a dry fish on land.

He removed the tattered clothing from Orm and found the bag of clothing the League last left for Arthur's own age regression, and he dressed Orm in the smallest shirt there was and shorts that went a little over the boy's knees. He never would've thought that Orm had once been so small, being so big and tall in his adulthood. He made sure there was an extra layer.

Tired himself but not wanting to leave Orm alone, even when asleep, Tom grabbed a chair from the kitchen downstairs and sat by the bed. It wasn't the best place to sleep, but he'd been through worse. Besides, there was a kid who was probably having the worst time of his life. What kind of person would he be to leave someone like that alone? Not a good one, that was for sure.

.

.

.

When Tom woke up, it wasn't even a couple hours later, the sun rising as beautifully as it did always. He muffled a tired groan as he rubbed his face, glancing over to the bed. He was met with half-lid eyes staring past him and out the window.

“Hey,” the man said softly. “How are you feeling?”

Orm looked towards him, his skin somewhat pale and breathing a bit heavily. “Water,” he spoke up, voice strained.

Tom panicked for a second, placing a hand over Orm's forehead, and he nearly cussed when he felt how warm the boy was. The man nearly tripped his way downstairs to grab four water bottles he kept in the pantry, running back upstairs and putting them onto the floor. Orm was too weak to protest Tom helping him sit up and took the first open bottle offered to him, and the boy drowned it, and then the next one and the next one and the next one.

“Is there anything that will make you feel better?” Tom asked, not sure about Atlantean physiology besides what he learned from raising Arthur. “More water? Can you eat?”

Orm nodded, lips too dry for Tom's liking. “More water,” the boy said before losing consciousness.

Tom felt like an idiot when he realized what he should've done in the first place. Quickly, he picked Orm up again and headed out to the dock, kicking the door open. Once outside, Tom took Orm to a shallow portion of the rocks which was walled off to provide a large bathtub space that was connected to the ocean but didn't have any opening that would let someone get washed away. Vulko helped make this in the case that Arthur got sick and needed to be in saltwater all those years ago.

Atlanteans were people of the sea, their bodies adapted to the salt in their environment. Water, fresh or salt, was good for them, but it was best for them to let the ocean heal them. It was too difficult to use the actual bathtub in the house because the only water available was tap, and Tom didn't know if it would heal or worse an Atlantean child's condition.

Taking a chance, Tom headed back into the house, hoping that Orm wouldn't wake up while he was gone, and made something for them both to eat as quickly as possible, Orm's portion in a plastic container and some warm tea in a thermo. The man brought everything back outside, and he had breakfast watching the sunrise. Thinking back to just earlier, when he saw Orm look out of the window, Tom wondered if that had been the first sunrise he'd ever seen.

.

.

.

It was midday when Orm woke up a second time, getting up quite startled. His head shot up from the water, and he gasped, his lungs not used to switching back and forth from water to air all of the sudden. Tom jumped from dozing off a little, and he reached over, getting into the rocky bath to check Orm's temperature. The boy was feeling a lot cooler, nothing as extreme as earlier, but he still needed to rest up.

“You hungry, son?” Tom asked, standing up.

Orm looked at him with hesitant eyes, as if he was in a daze, and nodded. He might not be fully aware of what happened, so Tom carefully pulled the boy to the rocks so he could sit down without getting too wet. The man placed Orm onto his lap, their feet still in the water, and wrapped one of Orm's hands carefully under the plastic container, putting a metal fork in the other. The boy looked at the fork curiously, holding it kinda funny, and then he threw it away onto the rocks before using his free hand to dig in. Tom was reminded of the first time he'd seen Atlanna eat, slurping a live goldfish whole.

“Slow down, Orm,” Tom urged, “you're going to choke.”

The boy stopped for a second before going back to eat, slower this time. It wasn't long before the container was empty, Tom asking Orm if he wanted some more. Orm shook his head, blinking drowsily. He looked completely relaxed compared to last night, and Tom huffed with amusement, letting the boy lean back against his chest.

“Are you feeling better, Orm?”

The boy nodded, his body a little sluggish.

“That's good, why don't you get some more sleep and we'll see about dinner later. Is there something you need, or want? I'll try to get it for you.”

Orm shook his head, but he was quickly slipping back to sleep. Tom laughed silently, pressing a kiss against the boy's yellow hair, and he kept Orm on his lap for a little longer, waiting for the boy's breath to even out. He carefully slipped Orm back into the rocky bath and headed back into the house to get a few things.

Tom came back down with two thermos—one water, one tea—a lawn chair, and a book, _The Odyssey_. The man parked himself as close as he could to the water, starting with Book I, and started to read out loud. He wasn't sure if sound carried well from air to water, but it was like a baby in the womb. Everything was muffled and nothing made sense, but Tom just didn't want to leave Orm alone for even a moment.

Somewhere after Book VII, Tom dozed off again. He woke up at around midnight to the sound of splashing. “Orm?” he called out, getting up. The rocky bath was empty, which put in him in a bit of a panic. “Orm!”

A loud splash turned his head to the left, and he found Orm halfway out of the water, eating a live fish. Tom let out a sigh of relief. “You hungry?” he asked, picking up a container of food he made for dinner time. “Here.”

Orm looked at him carefully, color returning nicely to his skin. He looked down at the half-eaten fish in his hands.

“Finish that and come over,” Tom suggested, sitting back down. “I won't give you a fork this time.”

The boy hesitated but got out of the water, finishing up the fish, bones and all. Tom smiled, patting his lap in question, and Orm nodded, looking apologetic to even take the man up on the offer. Tom didn't say a thing as he picked the boy up and sat him on his lap again. The man gave Orm dinner, picking up a towel nearby to help dry the boy off. Orm leaned against him as he began to eat.

“Are you feeling better?” Tom asked softly.

“Yes, thank you,” Orm replied politely, taking his time this time to chew.

“That's good. Do you want to sleep out here tonight, or in the house?”

Orm thought about it for a second. “The house.”

“Okay.”

They were silent as Orm ate, neither of them looking at each other but remaining close.

“Tell me when you want to go inside,” Tom said at one point, looking up at the sky.

Orm looked up too, and then he said, “Would you tell me about the stars?”

The boy spoke so quietly that Tom almost missed it, but fortunately, the man heard it and began to point out the stars and constellations, telling Orm their names and the various stories behind them. Orm listened carefully.

They were out one or two more hours, heading back inside. Tom got Orm to take a warm shower and change out into some dryer clothes. “Good night,” the boy said once he learned for the first time again the concept of brushing his teeth.

“You want me to tuck you in, son?” Tom asked, standing right at the door with Orm.

“Tuck me in?” Orm asked, blinking.

“Yeah, I put you to bed, make sure you're comfortable, and check for monsters under the bed and in the closet.”

“There are monsters? Are you going to fight them? You'll probably die.”

Tom chuckled. “Well, luckily, monsters get scared pretty easily, so if someone checks their hiding spots, they wouldn't dare try to grab you when you're sleeping.”

Orm's eyes widened in disbelief. “That can't be true.”

“It doesn't hurt to check. What do you say?”

The boy was conflicted, probably catching on that this was a childish concern but curiousity as well. “Okay,” he replied.

“Alright, then,” Tom said with a smile, ushering Orm into Arthur's childhood room. He waited for the boy to climb onto the bed first and made Orm comfortable with the blanket. “Checking under the bed now.” He looked underneath. “No monsters here. Then the closet.” He opened the closet, finding nothing, and closed it. “No monsters here either. You're safe and sound tonight, Orm.”

“That can't possibly scare monsters away,” Orm commented, looking kinda disappointed. Maybe he wanted a monster to show up.

“It does,” Tom rebuked, wise and all-knowing, “but if you're still not certain, I'll be in the room down the hall. Call me if you need me. There are water bottles on the table next to you. Is there anything else you need?" 

Orm shook his head, curled up on his side. "I'm fine, thank you," he said, silently stuttering out a word, but changing his mind. "Good night."

Tim smiled, leaning down to place a kiss on Orm's head. (Old habits die hard.) "Night, Orm," he said, heading out the room. He turned off the lights and quietly closed the door, and the man headed off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna write a little more about Orm and then add a shorter one for Arthur's own age regression. I love these characters! :)

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my work(s), please check out [my Twitter](https://twitter.com/kappachyun?s=09).


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